


About Last Night

by kcstories



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence, Fluff, Hogwarts Era, M/M, flangst, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-16
Updated: 2007-06-16
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8626969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcstories/pseuds/kcstories
Summary: It's the morning after the night before, after the Firewhiskey and Harry's close encounter with Malfoy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** The Potterverse is JKR's, not mine.

Struggling to suppress a yawn, Harry walks into the Great Hall. He's relieved to see no other students are around, and the teachers have already left as well.  
  
He supposes this is what you can expect when you go down for breakfast at ten A.M., but really, he doesn’t mind; not in this case. He wasn’t feeling well enough to get up or face food any earlier anyway, and he certainly doesn’t fancy dealing with people just yet either.  
  
At least it’s Sunday, and he doubts whether anyone actually misses him. They’re probably all playing games or talking or studying or – as in Hermione and Ron’s case - enjoying each other’s company in ways Harry doesn’t particularly care to know about.  
  
He pours himself a cup of coffee (strong, black and without sugar), and hopes it’ll put a swift end to the dull, throbbing sensation in his skull.  
  
Why oh why was he foolish enough to accept the Firewhiskey Malfoy offered him the previous night, he wonders? What was he even _thinking_? And why didn’t he stop, just for one second, to consider the consequences first?  
  
Consequences, which, as it turned out, were far worse than a mere hangover.  
  
Harry swallows hard as last night's events hit him once more.  
  
A chance encounter between him and Malfoy in some dark corridor on the second floor. Malfoy, who had an unhealthy amount of drink in his possession and who displayed an unsettling keenness to share.  
  
Harry was bored witless, so he decided he might as well accept the offer, but when they were somewhere halfway done with the first bottle, _things_  began to happen.  
  
The first kiss was a dare. Funny how ‘Scared, Potter?’ still managed to get under his skin, even after seven years.  
  
The second kiss was _payback_ , supposedly, and by the time they got to the third, they’d long stopped caring about the how or _why_. They’d long stopped caring about a lot of things.  
  
Instead, they sought out the privacy of an empty classroom, where the situation fast got out of hand, and Harry can’t help but wonder now what might have happened if they hadn’t been disturbed by the familiar sound of Mrs Norris approaching.  
  
Though, honestly, he has a pretty clear idea of where the night’s activities would have led. They were both eager and intoxicated enough.  
  
Harry sighs deeply, still barely able to grasp that he went that far with _Malfoy_ – of all people.  
  
Granted, they haven’t fought for a long while, not really. Somewhere along the way, animosity changed into mutual avoidance, and Harry has to admit that the arrogant prat does have his good points too, and he isn’t entirely unpleasant to look at either, not to mention that delicious mouth and those soft, talented hands, but still...  
  
Harry sighs. Why does this sort of thing always have to happen to him?  
  
At least he can easily avoid Malfoy today. They don’t have any classes on Sunday, after all.  
  
But as usual, Harry’s seemingly endless luck doesn’t extend to social situations.  
  
As if on cue, Draco saunters into the Great Hall.  
  
Unlike Harry, he had plenty of Hangover Potion at his disposal when he woke up, so he shows no signs of having been more than a little plastered the previous night.  
  
In fact, he looks rather cheerful, Harry is shocked to note. He senses Draco glance in his direction and he quickly looks the other way, too unsettled at the thought of a confrontation.  
  
However, it doesn’t take him long to change his mind. After all, he’s as brave as his House suggests and equally curious.  
  
Draco takes his usual seat at the Slytherin table and feels Harry’s eyes upon him.  
  
Surprised, he looks up and gazes into the uncertain face of his former rival, his supposed enemy, though last night they hardly behaved in a way enemies would.  
  
Draco takes a deep breath. He’s been thinking about this ever since he first woke up. Before last night’s physical stuff even started, he and Harry had been getting along rather well: joking and laughing, even discussing Quidditch tactics and gossiping about the teachers. As if the two of them had been chummy for years.  
  
Draco decided that morning that he longs for more, that he wants to be Harry’s friend, at the very least, and more if possible, if the boy’s interested. He gives his baffled classmate a cheeky wink.  
  
Harry’s first reaction is to blush furiously, but he forces himself not to look away.  
  
Draco grins, gets up again, and determinedly heads towards the Gryffindor table.  
  
"Hello, Potter," he says as he takes the chair to Harry's left and reaches into his robe pocket. "You look like you might need some of this."  
  
Harry studies the vial Draco is holding between the thumb and index finger of his right hand, and frowns at him curiously. "What’s that?"  
  
"Hangover Potion," Draco says simply. "It'll help ease your headache."  
  
Harry's frown deepens. "How do you know I have a headache?"  
  
Draco chuckles. "After the amount of alcohol you consumed last night, I'd be shocked if you didn't currently feel like you have a gang of goblins drumming up a storm in your head."  
  
Harry gives a small smile. “I see your point.” He accepts the offered potion, tries to ignore the tingle he feels when his hand accidentally brushes Draco's, and downs the green liquid in one swift gulp, quickly followed by a glass of pumpkin juice. "That tasted incredibly vile," he says and grimaces.  
  
"Sorry." Draco grins sheepishly, which leaves him looking nothing like his usual haughty self, and Harry can’t help but grin back.  
  
"Look," Draco goes on, "I have to get back to my table, in case anyone else comes in."  
  
"Yes, yes of course," Harry replies quickly, unable to hide his disappointment. Truthfully, he wants Draco to stay a while longer. The idea of having breakfast together suddenly seems very appealing.  
  
Draco gets up, but hesitates. "Listen," he says softly. "About last night, I don't know about you, but after everything we…"  
  
Harry's heart starts to race. "Yes?" he says in a low whisper, encouraging Draco to continue.  
  
"I don't think I could go back to the way we were before, I mean-" He gives a lopsided smile. "After last night, that would seem stubborn and daft, which, incidentally, are Gryffindor traits, hardly befitting a Slytherin." He crosses his arms in mock-indignation, and Harry laughs.  
  
"You're right, Mal- Draco. I don't want us to go back to how we used to be, either. I don’t- I don’t think I could."  
  
"Right. Um. So..."  
  
"So?"  
  
Draco takes a deep breath. "How would you feel about meeting me by the lake at three? Assuming, as you so eloquently put it last night, Granger and Weasley are snogging each other senseless again and you're still bored out of your wits."  
  
"You remember that?"  
  
"I remember _everything_ you and I said and did last night quite clearly, Potter."  
  
"Oh." Harry blushes because he does too, and the details are growing more vivid by the minute.  
  
Briefly, Draco looks around, to make certain no one’s watching them, and he presses a quick kiss to Harry's cheek. "See you later, then?"  
  
"All right. Um, three o'clock, you said?"  
  
Draco nods. He returns to the Slytherin table and sits down just in time, the very moment Blaise walks into the Hall.  
  
Harry takes a bread roll from the tray, suddenly feeling hungry. He smiles and wonders what the rest of the day will have in store.


End file.
